


Airports

by laceandgrace (thingsarequeer)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Making Out, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingsarequeer/pseuds/laceandgrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Airports are a central location for everything important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Airports

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend of mine way back when. First posted to GJ, then LJ, and finally archived here.

He’s on the way out the door when his cell phone rings. The taxi has all of his luggage packed, and the driver’s practically _laying_ on the horn. But Jensen pauses long enough to pull the Razor out of his pocket and flip it open. It’s Jared calling, because the picture of Sadie slobbering all over his co-star’s face is lighting up the screen. He snorts in good humor, because only Jared would have the gall to seize his phone and use it to take whatever pictures he pleases within only three weeks of knowing Jensen. 

Jensen taps the answer button and speaks into the receiver in a cheerful rumble. “This is the awesomeness. How can I direct your call?” 

“ _Jensen_!” 

His co-star’s voice is so loud that Jensen has to pull the phone away just a bit in order to maintain his hearing. “Goddamn, Padalecki. Tone it down a little, will you?” 

“Sorry, dude.” But he can tell that Jared isn’t sorry at all, because his voice doesn’t lower by even one decibel. “Was wondering if you wanted to get a beer. I’m bored as hell, man.” 

“Sorry, Jared. I’m flying out for the weekend. I’ve got some interview thing I need to do, I guess.” 

“Aw suck.” That sound is as close to a pout as Jensen’s ever heard from a guy in his entire life. He pictures Jared slouched in a chair, one huge hand playing with something idly while the other holds the phone to his ear. It fits right, and somehow Jensen’s not sure why he knows that so soon. “Is it about the show? C’mon, Jen. Who would call you in for an interview without me?” 

“Obviously someone who has superior taste. And don’t call me Jen, Padalecki. I _hate_ it when people do that.” 

“What you going to do about it… _Jen_?” 

The smirk in Jared’s voice is enough to make Jensen roll his eyes. He shifts the phone against his ear, and shoots out, “Fuck you.” It’s a friendly insult. The kind that one good friend gives another. Jared takes it naturally – the way it was meant to be taken – and huffs. The sound of the taxi horn being blow again jerks Jensen from whatever it is Jared’s trying to drag him into. “I’ve got to go, Jared. Taxi man is frothing at the mouth, I think.” 

“Fiiiine.” 

“Oh please, Jared. Are you a girl or something? Go get drunk if you have to. Get laid. Just go to a bar and _do_ something.” 

Another offended huff. “ _Dude._ Sandy would kick the shit out of me.” 

“So lay her. I _really_ need to go, Jay.” 

There’s a moment of silence, then Jared coughs. “Hey, Jen?” 

Jensen grinds his teeth and runs a hand through his gel-stiffened hair before answering, “Yeah?” 

“Don’t call me Jay. I _hate_ it when people do that.” 

“Fine. Whatever. Sure. Good _bye_ , Padalecki.”

Another vocal smirk. “Ciao, Ackles.”

\--------

The last thing that Jensen expects to see when he’s stepping off of the airplane and into the terminal is Jared Padalecki’s lean, tall frame standing expectantly with the rest of the people waiting for friends and family to disembark. But he’s there anyway, long limbs covered by worn-down jeans and a blue t-shirt. He’s idly tossing and catching the keys to his truck before he spots Jensen.

Jensen’s not really horrified when Jared lets out a holler across the room. He doesn’t even wince actually. Just hefts his carry-on bag and grins wide while his co-star – his _friend_ – crosses to where he’s standing. “What are you doing here, my jolly green giant?” 

“Blue,” Jared corrects almost without a thought, jerking one of the bags out of Jensen’s hands cheerfully. It’s not really a _God, you’re such a girl_ thing. More of a _Let me help you with that, jerk_ sort of thing, so he doesn’t pay any mind. 

“What are you doing here? I have a taxi waiting.” 

“Naw. Had it cancelled.” 

“What the hell, Jay?” 

Jared just shoots a grin his way, the playfulness coming right up to linger in his eyes as he mumbles, “Vancouver is so boring.” _When you’re gone,_ is added without words. 

Jensen just smiles to himself.

\--------

“Holy fuck…”

“Mmhmm.” 

“…Shit.” 

“Yup.”

They’re both sitting near the terminal gate. The flight’s been delayed, due to some technical error. Jensen’s not nearly as freaked out about planes as Dean is, but he still figures it’s better to be safe than sorry, so he’s not complaining…yet. Because Jared’s got his laptop out, exploring God-knows-what and Jensen’s got his Ipod cranked up to full volume in an attempt to keep the random mutterings of his co-star out of his ears. It’s almost impossible right from the start, because as soon as Jared opens up his Itunes, he starts laughing hysterically when he finds a play list on the wireless network with the name, “Can someone bring lube to the guys on the second floor?” It’s hard enough to settle down the giant’s Texan guffaw. By the time Jared’s breathing returns to normal, Jensen has his earphones stuck into his ears as far as they’ll go and his face is as red as a tomato. 

“God almighty…” 

“Shut _up_ , Jay.” 

“Jen, have you _read_ any of this stuff? …Jen? JenJenJen. Jeeeen, I know you can _hear_ me.” As a last resort, the taller man tugs on the white cord of one earphone, pulling it out so that his friend has no choice but to acknowledge his presence. 

“Christ, Jay. Can you not see that I’m trying to listen to my goddamn music?” 

“But _look_ at this!” 

Jensen rolls his eyes, but leans closer to humor him, eyes skimming thoughtfully over the text on the screen until he sits back. Shooting Jared a perceptive look, he says, “Yeah? And?” 

“But, Jen, it’s slash.” 

“…Okay?”

“About Sam and _Dean_.” 

“I gathered that much from the steamy sex scene you had me read.” Jensen’s already half-way to not listening again, his hand reaching for his Ipod again to recommission the poor machine. Somehow the cords got tangled when he was leaning over. “What about it?” 

When he looks back up again, Jared’s got a look of puzzlement written all over his face. One brow cocked up and one hug paw scratching the back of his head in an endearing way that always has the fan girls swooning. “That doesn’t…weird you out?” 

“Jay, it’s fanficton. People are going to write whatever they want to. You get me?” 

“I guess.” Jared’s voice is still doubtful, but he seems to accept that as answer because he stops talking and goes back to whatever it is he’s looking at. Jensen goes back to his music, humming absently to himself every once in a while. After a few minutes, something in the air seems stale. It takes Jensen a minute to figure out that feeling is surrounding him because Jared isn’t talking. He’s too used to Jared _talking_. He glances over at his co-star and finds him staring at nothing, two hands pressing down on the laptop that’s obviously been shut down a few minutes ago. 

“Dude, what the hell?” Jensen pauses his music again, stares curiously until Jared breaks out of his thoughts. 

When his friend looks over, there’s something strange in the dark eyes that peer out from underneath that fringe of brunette hair. It’s not quite worry or sadness. But it’s not something Jensen likes to see in his friend’s eyes and he’s suddenly paying rapt attention to every word that comes spilling out of Jared’s mouth. “They write stories about us too, y’know. Not just our characters. Us.” 

“Jay, man. It’s no big deal. You just gotta –”

“I get mail from fans telling me that I should just go ahead and fuck you.” 

Jensen stops short, winces at the blunt choice of words. Everything’s suddenly very tense in the air and he chews the inside of his cheek absently, trying to come up with words that would be soothing, comforting. Jared’s staring at him full-on now, almost with a challenging look in his eyes. His arms cross like he’s waiting for something. 

“Well…We are pretty hot, man.” An awkward laugh that doesn’t strengthen his words at all. “Seriously, Jay. You can’t listen to stuff like that. It’s just something that’s bound to happen. Do you know how many letters Tom gets a week, telling him that he should just get it on with Mike?” 

“Jensen, Tom and Mike _do_ get it on.” 

“…Yeah well. No one but you and me and a few other select people _know_ that.” 

Jared’s smile is cracking. He runs a hand over his face wearily and slouches down in his chair before mumbling, “Obviously some of the fans notice. Because _hell_. There’s a lot of stuff out there for them too.” 

Jensen just laughs and shoves his Ipod into his pocket. The attendant’s voice is suddenly sounding over the speakers, calling for first class passengers to board. As they both stand and stretch, Jared jostles Jensen with his shoulder in that boyish way that he never can quite seem to get rid of. “Do you think the fans are right?” 

“About what? Tom and Mike’s case?” Jensen shoulders his carry-on bag, waits for Jared to get his ass moving before he starts heading over to board. 

“I guess.” 

The uncertain tone in Jared’s voice has Jensen slowing down just a bit. The unknown rings in those words. It sends something shooting through his limbs that’s somewhere between pleasant and frightening. Hot and cold. Something that makes his skin tingle and his breath catch in his throat. Softness. Warmth. The soothingly strange. Heated familiarity. Everything and nothing’s in that deep drawl and Jensen has to wet his lips before he speaks. 

“Hell yes.” 

The plane ride is quiet until Jared is telling Jensen the story about when he thought he was dead in a car accident for the hundredth time. They sink back into the time before with disturbing ease. But there’s something tangible that’s different between them. And when the publicity people ask them later what happened to their dynamic during the scheduled interview, they don’t know quite what to say.

\--------

“Jensen, I would have been fine by myself. I’m not a girl, you know.”

 _Jensen_. This has got to be the fifth day now that Jared hasn’t been calling him by the normal nickname that he’s sort of adapted to. It kind of frustrates him, so he lets the carry-on bag that he’s carrying for his friend to fall to the floor with a little less fragility than he knows it deserves. “Don’t worry about it. I gave you the ride here. Might as well see you the whole way.” 

Jared comes to a halt beside the bag that Jensen so rudely threw to the ground. He’s avoiding Jensen’s pointed glares – scratching his head, observing the ground, anything it seems to just not have to look him in the eyes. “Well, you can go now. I’m here.” He turns his head to glance in the gate’s direction, and those dark bangs flop into his eyes again. “And they’re loading. So…Bye.” 

Jensen’s eyes narrow. “So eager to get rid of me?” 

“God, Jensen. Stop being such a girl.” 

“A girl?” he echoes, one eyebrow raising out of mere curiosity. “How am I the one acting like a girl? Dude. You’re the one with the weird mood swings today. What the hell is bothering you?” 

“Nothing.” And the giant Texan is leaning over to pick up his other carry-on. But just before he can grab it, Jensen shoves him roughly in the shoulder. Jared steps back, a look of slight surprise spreading across his features. “Dude. What the hell?” 

“What do you mean what the hell?” Jensen shoves him again, and this time the force behind it actually sends Jared stumbling backwards. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you being so goddamn strange? What the fuck happened to you? Huh?” 

When Jensen shoves his friend again, he plants himself firmly on the ground in anticipation of the shove he’s supposed to get back. But nothing comes. Jared just stands there, staring at him with a look of utter confusion written all over his face. Confusion…and something like uncertainty. “What are you talking about?” 

Jensen doesn’t soften. Not one bit. He shoves himself right up into Jared’s space, sticking a finger right by his nose and says through clenched teeth, “ _You._ Jared fucking Padalecki. You’ve been acting bizarre and weird and I’m sick of it. What the hell _happened_? Are you pissed off at me? Did I do something? Because you’ve been avoiding me, Jay. And if not avoiding me, I’ve felt like you think I’m the bane of your existence.”

He’s jabbing Jared in the chest with that finger now, brutally. Trying to force some sort of reaction out of him that isn’t confusion or feigned innocence. Hell, if the guy would just throw a punch, Jensen would feel a lot better. He’s not used to Jared being this passive about anything. But the big guy just keeps _taking_ it, blinking owlishly every once in a while. 

But something’s happening. Because Jared’s jaw clenches, and his body seems to stiffen at the way that Jensen is crowding him. “Believe me, Jen. If I was angry, you’d know.” 

“That’s the fucking _point_!” He’s getting frustrated now. Because whatever it is that he’s doing to rile Jared up isn’t exactly working out. Jared’s not backing down anymore. His back actually straightens, pointing out to Jensen just how much height the taller man actually has on him. But Jensen’s not backing down either, and he doesn’t flinch or move away. “I always know when it comes to you. Because you tell me. But you’re not telling me anything anymore, Jay. So just…God. Just _tell_ me.” 

Suddenly, this bitter, black laugh barks out from Jared’s lips. It takes Jensen by surprise, makes him shut up for a moment or two. “You really wanna know, Jen?”

They’re both silent for a moment – just a moment – then Jensen says challengingly, “Yeah.” 

Jared just laughs again and wraps long fingers around one of his co-star’s elbows. “Bitch,” he says darkly. Jensen opens his mouth to reply with the customary _Jerk_ that’s turned into a tradition between the two of them. But all thoughts of being witty and sarcastic fly out the windows of his mind when Jared’s using that grip on his elbow to roughly jerk him closer. There’s not very much space left between them, so the distance traveled is short before he’s colliding with a hard chest. The impact hurts, almost gives him whip lash except that Jared’s fingers are suddenly rubbing over the short hair at the nape of his neck. And then before he can open his mouth to yell out, _What the fuck, man_ – oh _god_. 

A warm, soft mouth pressing against his. _Owning_ his with melting kisses that has Jensen gasping in the back of his throat. Unparalleled heat curls somewhere deep in his stomach, then spreads to every single inch of him until even his toes are curling from it. The barest trace of tongue flicks over his bottom teeth, and Jensen’s suddenly not sure of where he is or what’s going on. But he’s fisting the material of Jared’s t-shirt in his hands and wants very much to participate. Bites down ever so lightly on that bottom lip to be rewarded with a breathy groan. And _god_. Suddenly it’s all frantic, heated humidity between their mouths when Jared’s mumbling something between every contact of the lips and Jensen’s just trying to get more, more, _more_. 

It seems like only a few seconds until Jared’s planting one firm hand in the middle of Jensen’s chest and pushing him away. He stumbles back, tries to regain his balance somewhere in a room that’s spinning and spinning and won’t fucking stop. Breathing seems hard, almost impossible. But when their eyes meet, Jensen sees the utter vulnerability that Jared’s wearing on his face. It’s desire and fear and anger and so many emotions in one that Jensen’s nearly drowning in it. The heat of uncharted waters is coming up past his neck, and he has no fucking clue how to swim. 

“Jay –” 

His expression changes to something much darker, and it automatically silences everything that Jensen is trying to say. “Forget it, Jensen. Go get drunk if you have to. Get laid. Just go to a bar and _do_ something.” And then he’s gathering his two carry-on bags in his arms and racing off to the gate faster than Jensen’s ever seen him move in all the time that they’ve known each other. 

Jensen is left with the sting of his own words fired back in his face.

\--------

Jared’s never been happier to be in the cold – cold _Vancouver_ , to be more exact. Although why he’s exactly happy to see the city, considering the way he left it, is beyond his own ability to comprehend. But the cold is welcome compared to the strangling heat of Texas that Jared never really noticed until this weekend that he’s been away.

It hurts too. Because the cold reminds him of how much Jensen hates winter. And Jensen reminds him of things unsaid, lips pressing hard against the mouth of another, the heated, lacing desire that had shot thrills through his limbs…

_God, we’re so screwed. So fuckin’ scre –_

Just like that, thoughts are interrupted when a strong hand grabs him just as he’s coming out of the gate. Being slammed against the wall knocks the breath from him, and his head bangs painfully in reaction to being jerked around. He’s really in the mood to complain or yell or something too. But then a hot, familiar mouth is slanting over and bruising his own lips and it’s so fucking hard to _breathe_. 

Rough hands slipping under the material of his t-shirt and teeth grazing over the hollow of his throat possessively. He groans, twines his fingers in gelled-up, blonde hair and stutters, “J-Jen…” Because it’s instinct. It’s like blood, and he just _knows_. “Jen, what are you –” 

Something hard – something like a knee – shoves his legs apart and grinds against the one area of his body that happens to be thinking a lot more than his mind right now. Words fly right out of his mind as a high, keening sound tears straight from the depths of his throat. What was he saying? Something about…About not doing private things in a public airport? How _ridiculous_ of him, really. 

“Your truck. _Now_ ,” that deep, southern drawl grits into his ear as he tongues the lobe like it could be made of the gummy bears that Jared insists are kept in his trailer every moment of the day. “ _God_. Vancouver’s so boring.”


End file.
